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himself. This guy was beginning to piss him off. “No,” he said. “Let’s go on to the end.”

  “Okay, your funeral,” said Roke.

  It didn’t take long. The water rose higher and higher as the ceiling dropped lower and lower in the tunnel. This is insane, thought Joel. There’re only a few inches of air between us and the roof of this thing, and the walls are closing in fast. What if the water goes right up to the ceiling? How will we breathe? Can we even back out? He was starting to feel overwhelmed by his old fears. Still, he wanted to show the big guy he could do it---in Roke’s words, to not give up.

  (FIVE)

  Roke had been pushing at Joel’s feet from behind and egging him on. “Hey, showoff,” he yelled, “want to give up? Can’t handle it? Only one more mile, and we’ll be there. Piece of cake. By the way, can you swim underwater?” Then, abruptly, he stopped pushing and stopped shouting. All Joel could hear was his heavy breathing. What was this big galumpf going to demand now?

  What came next was a big surprise.

  “Okay, kid, you win,” said Roke. “I’m too big. I can’t get through. Got to back out.”

  So Joel had won. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had won. He was cold and wet and exhausted, but maybe Roke would have more respect for him now. Maybe that was triumph enough. He looked behind him. The beam from Roke’s lamp was growing smaller and smaller as he pushed himself backwards out of the tunnel. Joel peered straight ahead of him, the lamp on his helmet lighting the way. The water looked like it was about to rise right to the top of the tunnel, erasing the tiny air space that was left.

  But wasn’t that daylight filtering down into the water not too far ahead? It was crazy, but it seemed like, if he took a deep enough breath, he could swim underwater a short distance and come out of the tunnel into a pool in another cavern. One that had light coming into it from where? Another entrance? But what if it wasn’t true? What if the tunnel went on and on, too far for him to swim through holding his breath? Not even Roke could save him then. It would be an ugly, drowning death.

  And yet, was it possible Bryan had come this way? He did know how to swim—even though he disliked it. It was that thought that propelled him. How else could they find him? They had to go where Bryan might have gone. It meant he had to try it. He was a big swimmer, for God’s sake. He ought to be able to handle something like this.

  He heard Roke’s angry voice far behind him. He had guessed what Joel was up to. “Don’t do it!” he yelled “You damn fool. You’ll die!”

  But he was now underwater. He’d taken that deep breath and was side-stroking and lunging underwater through the tunnel—as far as he could go with each stroke. It was further than he’d guessed. Maybe twice as far. He thought he was going to faint. He wanted desperately to open his mouth, to breathe in, to breathe in even water, but at the same time instinct told him, no, he mustn’t, he must not, must not, must not. And, then, he was out of the tunnel, breaking the surface of a large pool in the bottom of a soaring cavern and sucking in great gulps of sweet, lovely air.

  It was too deep to stand up in so for a long minute he just floated on his back looking upwards. The cavern was filled with patches of daylight raining down from several small clefts in its ceiling and dancing on the water in the pool. It was wondrous to see out to glimpses of cheerful blue sky after so long in the dark of a cave world. And, then, he began to worry about how he would ever get out of this place. The crevices of light in its roof seemed completely inaccessible. Would he have to dive back down into that flooded tunnel to escape? The thought terrified him. He might not be as lucky a second time. He might take a wrong turn, he might lose consciousness, he might simply drown.

  He pulled himself out of the pool. He knew he would have to worry about hypothermia if his body temperature began to drop. Was there any chance that Roke could find him? How would he do it? He probably didn’t know this part of Slater’s that well or maybe not at all. He’d have to struggle through a labyrinth of passages.

  Was it possible to believe that his brother had come the same way he had through that flooded tunnel? He set about exploring the cavern, checking for possible exits and for signs Bryan might have left behind.

  It was an eerily beautiful place, no question about that---like a sculptured grotto overgrown with stalactites and stalagmites that seemed to reach out to each other like frozen otherworldly lovers. One corner had some wild extrusions of white gypsum crystals that glittered in the light floating down from the breaks in the ceiling. A touch of fairyland in the stark scenery of Slater’s Cave. He had a feeling this might be a little-known cavern in Slater’s—maybe part of the newly revealed cave system. Was this the same kind of thrill his brother got from exploring caves, the intense thrill of discovery when you’re the first one on the scene?

  The bottom of the cave was basically rock, but one area had a small deposit of fine sand. He pressed his foot into it. It felt like regular beach sand. He wondered how it had gotten there.

  And, then, he saw it—a thunderclap trapped in the sand. The imprint of another sneaker. He didn’t have to look any closer to know whose it was. “So you did it, too,” he said under his breath. Bryan had been as stubborn, as pertinacious, to quote Roke, as he was. He had also come through that tunnel.

  He knelt on his knees in the sand and searched for a clue that could tell him how long ago Bryan had walked there. It was impossible to know. A footprint in a cave like this could last for months, for years, perhaps, a century—as everlasting as a footprint on the moon.

  Suddenly, Joel felt a presence in the cave, almost like a vibration very close to him. He got to his feet and whirled around. It was Deeter from the bar and two of his long-haired caver buddies.

  “Look what we have here,” he sneered. “This is the little shit I told you about.” The others laughed. “Didn’t I tell you to stay the hell out of Slater’s?” he barked.

  “I’m looking for my brother,” said Joel evenly.

  “They’ll be looking for both of you when we’re through,” he said. With a sudden sweeping gesture, he yanked his belt out of his pants and marched slowly up to Joel. “Watch this, guys.” He brought the leather tail of the belt down onto Joel’s head. Joel partly blocked it with his hand, but it still hurt. Then, Deeter very deliberately turned the belt around so that the steel buckle end of the belt trailed on the ground. He held the leather tail in his hand. “That feel comfy, dearie? Wait’ll you taste this. Get in line, guys. Everybody gets a turn.”

  He started to whip the buckle down onto Joel, but this time he was too quick for Deeter. He sidestepped him and aimed a kick into the pit of his stomach. He doubled over.

  “Get him,” he gasped.

  The other two had pulled out their belts and moved swiftly down on Joel. He could see there was no way he could come out of this safely. He backed away right to the edge of the pool wind-milling his belt. There was an uncertain moment as the two cavers spread out. Obviously he could only hope to hit one of them before the other one smashed him with his belt. Still, they hesitated.

  ‘Get him!” screamed Deeter. “Get him!”

  As they began to swing their belts, Joel took the only escape route he could see. He sucked in a deep breath, leaped backward into the pool behind him and dove out of sight into its deepest part. He could hear Deeter as he dove in. “So long, jackass! Bet he can’t swim!” They all laughed.

  Underwater, Joel looked desperately around for the tunnel he had used to get into the pool. He swam toward what looked like it, found it was just a hollow in the rock, tried another false exit, began to panic and started to head back to the surface—even though he knew it meant having to face these guys again.

  Then, just before breaking the surface he saw a narrow, water-filled fissure leading off the pool. He had no idea how far in it went, but in these final terrifying seconds he knew he wasn’t maki
ng much sense. He slid into the fissure and discovered to his amazement that just above the water surface was a slice of air tucked under the rock pavement at the edge of the pool. Forcing himself to breathe in and out as slowly and quietly as he could, he found he could hear what was going on just above him without being seen or heard.

  The three cavers were laughing hysterically about how they had routed Joel. All seemed to assume he had already drowned. One of them checked the pool. “No sign of him, Deeter. I mean how long can he hold his breath?” There were more howls of laughter.

  Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped. There was now a fourth member of the group. “Why, it’s Roquefort,” said one of them.

  “How very nice to see you,” said Deeter.” Joel couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to find his way into the cavern. “Just in time to join your friend in his swimming pool,” said Deeter. “The one he’s staying in for good.”

  Roke said something Joel couldn’t quite catch, but he could tell he was angry.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” asked Deeter.

  Joel could hear Roke whip out his belt. A huge, noisy scuffle began, punctuated by the sound of belts and punches landing on bodies. Roke did not cry out, but the others sure did. Joel could only think of